


And Waffles for Breakfast

by curiously_me



Category: Batman (Comics), Superboy (Comics)
Genre: Blind Character, Breakfast, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5526341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curiously_me/pseuds/curiously_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A simple request to have waffles for breakfast is fulfilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Waffles for Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

> Just a bauble that I wrote back in January of 2012... I always felt like there was more to this story, but I've never delved to deeply to figure out what's supposed to have happened.

Bruce stared down at the still sleeping form lying on the bed next to him with absolutely no idea how they ended up here. The young man looked about as worn out as a meta-human could be, complete with bags under his eyes and bruises still healing across his chest.

They had both lost so much in recent days that Bruce could feel the sorrow welling up inside his chest, clawing it's way up his throat, and trying to force it's way out of him. But he had locked down on everything, choosing to refocus his emotions into his duties as Batman. Each night, Bruce Wayne donned the suit of Gotham's protector, taking to the dark underbelly of his city and pulling it kicking and screaming into the light of day. For all that the citizens feared Batman, they could willingly admit that he had started to cause an effect in the way people acted within the city's limits.

The people of Gotham City had started to fight back against the crime happening on their doorsteps. They had taken measures to insure the safety of their children at schools and on the playgrounds. If you could ignore the occasional madman attacking the city, you would see that Gotham was slowly regaining control of itself.

For all the good he was doing as Batman, Bruce still couldn't figure out how he'd managed to draw this young, innocent thing into his bed. He certainly hadn't been trying to in the first place; he'd never thought of the boy, man, in that way before... But now, after sharing another pleasantly sleepless night with him, Bruce couldn't stop thinking of the acres of pale skin and the breathless sounds the other made as he moved his mouth across it.

Yes, Bruce Wayne was going to go to hell for this and he couldn't even muster up the first ounce of disgust with himself over it. Even if all he was allowed was this one last night, it was one of the happiest nights in memory. Of course, he didn't expect to have any more nights like the last, he just wasn't that lucky after all.

"Do you think we could have waffles for breakfast?" The quiet voice draws his attention back up from where he'd been appreciating his lovers' sculpted chest, pulling his eyes up to meet with a pair of unseeing blue orbs. That was yet another reason he didn't deserve this.

"Seriously, Bruce? I thought for sure Dick and Tim were kidding about your brooding, but they didn't even come close to describing the levels you're sinking to this morning and you haven't even had your first cup of coffee."

Bruce has to smile at that. His boys, he is so very proud of all of them, have been there for them both through all of this. Tim, especially, has been a most devoted friend. He's stayed at the side of his best friend's hospital bedside, keeping him company during the long tests and providing a shoulder to cry on when those very same tests came back with negative results.

And Dick, who never wanted the position, has been filling in as Batman for Bruce whenever he needs the help. Though he'd never ask for it. Alfred and Dick perfected the art of Bruce-wrangling many years ago and he's just lucky that they've chosen to use those powers for good. Even if he doesn't always agree with the hows and whens of their plans. Dick is less of a son than his other boys, more of a confidant and friend than most of the people Bruce grew up with, and it's been his ears that have listened to all of Bruce's fears.

He can hear Damian's voice, muffled by the door and the rooms between them, yelling at Dick about too much sugar in his diet and another grin threatens to break across his face. Dick will do a much better job with his son than he ever could dream of, he's just too harsh of a man to be of any good to Damian. After living his first years of life with Talia and Ra's, fighting to prove his right to existence, the boy shouldn't have to continue trying to prove himself to his father.

A hand touches the side of his face, gentle and warm, and he realizes that he's drifted off once more. Surely, he's not going senile this early?

A laugh sounds and then there are lips pressing against his, tongue teasing against the seam of them, just testing for the briefest of moments before twisting away.

"Come on, old man! If you don't get a move on, Clark and Dick are going to eat all the waffles... That, or drive Damian to kill."

Bruce still lingers, watching his lover moving through their room with a gentle grace, pulling on a pair of sleep pants he picked up off the end of the bed before walking towards the door. His TTK is the one thing keeping his blindness from taking control of his life, Bruce knows.

Connor turns back to face Bruce, hand on the doorknob. "You really have no idea how much they all care about you, do you? How much I love you?" He asks. At Bruce's continued silence, he continues, "Well, let it never be said that I'm scared of a challenge. I'll just have to keep showing you every single day until you believe me. Now, get your ass out of bed and come eat some breakfast with the rest of us!"

Bruce has nothing to say to that, so instead he stands up and heads to the wardrobe for his robe. It really wouldn't be seemly for him to turn up at the breakfast table in only a pair of pants, after all.

He heads down the hall, towards the staircase, and the closer he gets to the kitchen, the louder the voices become.

"Damn it, Grayson! Would you cease your attempts to poison me with an overdose of sugar!" Damian's voice is loud.

"Language, Damian." Tim and Clark intone at the same time as Alfred. Bruce can hear the smiles in their voices, though, and can almost picture his family in that moment.

"Hey, Alfred, do you have any more of that apple butter you made?" Connor asks as Bruce steps into the family dining room. He accepts the cup of coffee Clark hands him with a brief nod, waving Alfred away and heading to the cupboard himself. He knows exactly where Alfred keeps the homemade preserves and jellies and things.

"Here you go." He says, setting the jar down at the side of Connor's plate.

As he takes his seat at the head of the table, Connor on his left with Clark and Alfred sitting a little further down, Dick on his right with his other two Robins, Bruce just takes a minute to appreciate the peace in Wayne Manor. The large home wasn't built to hold one lonely man and it's been a much brighter place since his flock and friends moved back in.

Connor's hand reaches out to take his own, their fingers tangling together, and Bruce couldn't be more grateful for what he's been allowed to keep.


End file.
